


Rose-Leaves

by empressearwig



Category: Venetia - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M, First Time, Wedding Night, Yuletide Treat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2015-12-24
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:15:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5520032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empressearwig/pseuds/empressearwig
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The wedding night does not go as Venetia had planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rose-Leaves

**Author's Note:**

  * For [imaginarycircus](https://archiveofourown.org/users/imaginarycircus/gifts).



> I tried for Heyer-with-sex, and this is what happened. I hope it is something close to what you wanted!
> 
> Happy Yuletide.

It was a matter of some frustration to Venetia that despite her very best efforts, Damerel had refused to anticipate their wedding vows. Whenever she had tried to throw herself at his head, he had merely kissed her and said, "Soon, my dearest delight."

Well, soon was here.

The banns had been cried, the parson had pronounced them man and wife. There had been an uncomfortable wedding breakfast, where the only truly happy parties were the bride and groom and Aubrey. 

They were well and truly married, and Venetia was quite ready to get on with the business of providing Damerel a satisfactory alternative to his orgies.

She came from her new dressing room, clad only in a silk dressing gown. She expected to find Damerel eagerly anticipating her arrival, but instead, she found him still mostly dressed, pacing the length of their bedchamber, looking as nervous as though he was the virgin on her wedding night.

Venetia held out a hand for him, and he came, looking a wreck. "My dear friend," she said soothingly. "What could be so bad?"

"Venetia," he said, but said no more.

"Yes, my love?" she answered. 

He said nothing, looking at her miserably. She risked stepping closer, delicately wrapping her arms about him. He did not protest, but made no move to return her embrace.

It was absurd, she thought. From a man that she had been assured time and time again would only cause her ruin, he was certainly not demonstrating any interest in getting along with said ruin.

It was up to her then, just as the rest had been.

Mind made up, Venetia kissed the spot on his throat where his neckcloth should have resided. Damerel said nothing, but his hands clenched, went to her waist. Encouraged, Venetia kissed him again, trailing kisses up the length of his neck and jaw. 

He looked down at her, ardent desire banked in his eyes. 

"Hello, there," she said encouragingly. She stroked her fingers over his stubbled cheeks. "My very dearest friend."

He laughed then, and Venetia could only hope that he saw the absurdity of their situation. He caught her hand in his own and brought it to his lips. "I haven't served you well thus far, have I, my love?

"No," she said frankly. Boldly, she pressed herself closer to him. "But I keep hoping that you will."

Damerel's lips curved up into what Venetia recognized as a dangerous smile.

 _Finally_ , she thought.

"Well, then I shall have to do my utmost to rectify the situation to your satisfaction," said Damerel. "Starting--now!"

He kissed her then, a little roughly, in a way that Venetia thrilled to. She was not delicate, no matter what the men in her life persisted in thinking. She did not need, nor want, to be handled with kid gloves. She clutched at the linen of his shirt.

Damerel's hands wandered over the silk covering her body, and with every stroke, Venetia yearned for his touch on her bare skin. When his hands came to rest on the knot of her dressing gown, she was ready to beg.

And well, why not? She had been taught to begin as you meant to go on, and surely that was just as important here.

When he hesitated longer than she liked, Venetia tore her mouth away from his and said, " _Please_." 

She scarcely recognized her own voice, but Damerel answered in kind, untying the knot of her dressing gown and slowly, agonizingly, peeled back the dressing gown from her body until it lay in a puddle at her feet.

Damerel drew back from her, and she stood there, breath ragged as he looked his fill. She stood there, utterly without shame, as he circled her. 

When they were finally face to face again, his own breathing was uneven, and it was incredibly gratifying to know that she had done that without so much as touching him. "My god," said Damerel, looking thunderstruck. " _My god_." 

Venetia beamed at him, in complete charity with her new husband at last. "Perhaps we might rectify the matter of your own attire?" she asked delicately. "You seem to be overdressed, Damerel."

He grunted and shed his shirt most obligingly, but left his breeches in place. When Venetia frowned at him, he laughed darkly and lifted her onto the high bedstead. He did not join her, but looked down at her in a way that made Venetia feel even more nude than she was.

It wasn't a bad feeling, just new, and she wanted to have it with him. She held out her hand. "Come to bed."

Damerel shook his head, and took her ankles in hand, pulling her closer to the edge, spreading her legs wide. He stepped between them, and Venetia struggled to a sitting position. They were near the same height now and she reached for him, and this time he came willingly. 

He kissed her again, his hands caressing her bare skin. She gasped when he cupped her breasts, moaned when he bent his head to tease her nipple to tautness. He lavished kisses on her breasts, teasing and torturing her, until she wasn't sure she could bear it. When he tried to stop, she held his head to her, refusing him.

He chuckled softly, pressed another kiss to the top of one of her breasts. He pried her fingers loose from his head and raised it back to hers. He surveyed her with satisfaction before bending his head to kiss her once more, his tongue hot against hers as his hands moved lower on her body. 

His hands at rest on the tops of her thighs, Damerel broke the kiss and looked intently in Venetia's eyes. "My dearest delight," he said.

She brought her hand to his face. "My love."

"Do you trust me?"

Venetia nodded, unhesitatingly. 

Damerel grinned, almost boyishly, and turned his head so that he could kiss her palm. Then he nudged her to her back and bent his head.

 _Oh_.

Venetia had heard of this somewhere, from the housemaids maybe, or perhaps from one of Aubrey's books. She'd been intrigued, as she was by so many things people told her she wasn't supposed to enjoy, but she'd never imagined that it would feel like this. 

She'd never imagined being so lost to sensation that she wouldn't be able to think. She'd never dreamt of the way that Damerel's tongue would feel against her sensitive flesh, the way he seemed to know the way to wring the most feeling from her even though she didn't know. She hadn't know the exquisite pressure that would build and build, deep within her, until it was too much.

She'd never imagined collapsing, boneless, to the coverlet, completely overcome. 

She'd never imagined any of it at all and oh, how glad she was that now she knew.

Venetia felt, rather than saw, Damerel looking down at her from above. Lazily, she opened her eyes and took in his smug expression. She supposed she shouldn't inflate his ego any further, but still, the man deserved something. "That was--" she sighed, unable to go on.

"I know," said Damerel, and he bent his head to kiss her. 

She tasted what she supposed was herself on his lips and it was strange, but not unwelcome. She liked that it seemed to excite him, that he'd enjoyed what he'd done as much as she had. She hoped that meant it would want to do it again and often, because she was quite prepared to let him perform that particular husbandly duty whenever he'd like.

It was a sacrifice, but Venetia was prepared to bear it.

But even she, what Damerel persisted in calling a very green girl, knew that there was more. And she was quite ready to get on with it.

She broke the kiss and scrambled backwards on the bed. Unprepared, Damerel fell forward, face first into the coverlet. She did not laugh when he looked up, glaring, but instead ordered, "Get undressed and come to bed."

Damerel started, then prowled around the side of the bed, a predatory gleam upon his face. "And what, my love, makes you think that you are the one that should be giving orders? Didn't you promise something about obeying merely hours ago?"

Venetia swallowed hard, her heart pounding in her throat. She rather liked the sound of that, actually. "If you'd only move a little faster," she said bravely, "perhaps I wouldn't need to do so."

"Oh," said Damerel, and it sounded more than little threatening, in a way that made shivers run down Venetia's spine. "So you'd like me to hurry and come to bed, so that I can fuck you."

She stared, shocked and unbelievably aroused. 

"Venetia?" prompted Damerel. 

"Yes," she whispered. "I'd like that very much."

Damerel smiled.

Before Venetia was certain what had happened, he was with her on the bed, as nude as she and kissing her so fiercely that she couldn't draw breath. He touched her and she touched him and there were gasps and moans and the feeling that she'd had before built and built, until she was just as mad for him as she'd been then.

He brought her hand to his shaft, teaching her what to do, what he liked. She liked the sense of power that it gave her when he groaned, from low in his chest. She wondered if this is what he'd felt with his head between her legs and her hands dug into the covers beneath them. If it was, it was little wonder that he'd enjoyed himself. This was a heady business. 

She touched him until he batted her hand away and rolled her underneath him, her legs spread wide once more and his body pressed between them. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with urgency and lust, and still he asked, "May I--"

" _Yes_ ," she said, before he could finish.

He plunged inside her and oh, it was strange. It didn't hurt as she'd supposed, but she felt so full now. Stretched, in the most unusual way. She tipped her hips against his, almost experimentally, and above her, Damerel groaned.

"I have to," he said, still holding manfully still. "Venetia, I have to--"

"Yes, yes," she said, running her hands down his back, not sure what he was asking, but unable to deny him whatever he wanted.

He withdrew, and Venetia felt herself clench against his absence. He thrust forward again, and her hips came up to meet his, and this, this was what was supposed to happen. 

He nudged her leg up over his hip and she moaned when he hit some new spot inside of her. It was good, so much better than she'd expected, and she could feel that feeling come back to her, the one that had so overcome her before.

"Venetia," he said, thrusting faster. "Venetia, my love."

She clutched at his back, nails scoring his skin. 

He touched her and her mind went blank, and she cried, "Jasper!"


End file.
